


Tea and Punishment

by padawanhilary, Telesilla



Series: The Contract [2]
Category: Actor RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: fiftykinkyways, Kink, Multi, PVC, Punishment, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-03
Updated: 2005-12-03
Packaged: 2017-10-05 12:58:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/padawanhilary/pseuds/padawanhilary, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telesilla/pseuds/Telesilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christina's contract slave Carrie-Anne is in big trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tea and Punishment

Christina watches coolly as Carrie-Anne bends over -- from the hips, back straight, as trained -- to refresh everyone's teacups. The conversation has drifted around in circles a while, the aimless wandering of friends with nowhere better to be, and though Carrie-Anne's performance today has been impeccable, she's still under punishment. The whole _tea_ has been punishment, as evidenced by the freely-roaming hands of the guests today.

As Carrie-Anne straightens, eyes sad under the sweet, innocent-looking geisha face she's wearing, mouth severely drawn behind the black bit gag, Christina tells their guests, "I wish they would come up with a quiet alternative to PVC. It's so annoying." She throws Carrie-Anne a look, as though blaming her for the creak of the hobble skirt.

Training is everything, and it's what keeps Carrie-Anne from going to her knees and trying to apologize wordlessly for the fact that her clothing is making so much noise. Her steps are slow, limited by the extremely high heels, very severe skirt, the almost painfully tight waist cincher, and the care she has to take not to get the kimono sleeves tangled, and that helps some. It keeps her from flinging herself onto her knees in front of her Mistress so she can grovel shamelessly for forgiveness, even if she has to do it in front of Mistress' friends.

She bends carefully to offer the tray of small cakes to Mr. Bale, and manages to do nothing more than take a slightly unsteady breath as someone's hand slides across the slick PVC of her skirt to caress her ass. Mr. Bean, probably. He's told Mistress before how much he likes the shape of Carrie-Anne's ass, and she knows that his chair is just a little behind her to the right.

The hand strokes her again and this time she doesn't react at all, only remains bent over, waiting for him to stop. _Please stop. Please don't make me feel anything._

"If you like," Christina offers helpfully, leaning closer to Sean, "there's a zipper just -- yes, there, yeah. There you go." She settles back into her seat, gaze flicking dispassionately to Carrie-Anne's face and then away.

"To what do we owe this incredibly rare treat?" Sean asks her, and though Christina can't see from this angle, she's sure his hand has drifted so that his fingertips are gliding over the bare skin of Carrie-Anne's slit. "You're bloody strict about your girl being touched."

Christina can't very well say _It makes good punishment,_ so she smiles and says instead, "Just felt like a change today." She reaches up and tweaks Carrie-Anne's bare nipple, rosy against her pale skin, naked over the cincher. "Keeps a wayward girl on her toes."

Reminding herself that neither Mr. Bale nor the lovely boy kneeling at his feet will be distracted enough by her breasts to not notice any little slip she makes, Carrie-Anne keeps her face as calm as she can, swallowing a sigh when those blunt fingers discover just how wet she is. It has to be Mr. Bean; the only other guest within touching distance is Ms. Otto and her fingers are slim with short but rounded nails. Carrie-Anne wishes she didn't want to press back against those fingers until one or both of them slid into her. _I'm so easy ... too easy._

Christina's watching Carrie-Anne more closely, now. "_You_ remember why our guests are being allowed to touch you, _don't_ you, pet?" she asks, tone chilly. "Of course you do." She takes up her tea and sips, sighing, then turns to Christian, smiling. "Let me ask you something," she says, "what's your favorite way to humiliate your boy?"

"He doesn't like looking clumsy," Bale says after a sip of tea. He glances up at Carrie-Anne and smiles coolly. "If he needs to be humiliated in a way that isn't at all enjoyable for him, there are any number of things I can tell him to do quickly." He rests one hand on his boy's long hair, tugging lightly, his other hand cradling his cup. "May I hurt her?"

"Sure," Christina says, sounding almost careless. Her gaze drops to Jonny, and she smiles predatorily, knowing how uncomfortable women make him. Oh, but her girl is going to pay for her error, _but_ good. Christina's feeling her sadism keenly today.

Taking a deep breath, Carrie-Anne waits as she sees Mr. Bale glance around behind her. Two of the fingers that have not stopped stroking her all this time slide into her cunt, and a thumb, slick with her own wetness, presses into her ass. At the same time, Mr. Bale reaches up and catches one of her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, pinching hard at first and then rolling it and tugging as well.

Biting down on the gag, Carrie-Anne hopes he won't make her cry. Normally she can bear much more than this, but Mr. Bale is strong and cruel, and with Mistress watching Carrie-Anne knows her tears, when they happen, won't be the result of anything but shame.

Jonny's squirming miserably now, eyes fixed on some spot just between Carrie-Anne's feet. Christina's pleased enough with that (Christian will deal with him later, anyway), so she turns her attention to Miranda.

"Mirry? You're awfully quiet." Christina gets up from her seat and moves around Carrie-Anne, now effectively impaled on Sean's fingers. She winks at him.

"I was just wondering if I could have a lemon slice," Miranda says quietly, making a reaching gesture.

Christina places one on the edge of Mirry's saucer. "I'll chide the girl later for getting so distracted she can't do her job," Christina promises. "Now what about you? Is this...?" She indicates the display, which is more or less in Miranda's face and is very likely more than the woman wants to be treated to right now.

"No, it's -- it's fine," Miranda says, dropping her eyes.

Sometimes, Christina thinks Miranda herself needs a good, hard topping; she's so soft-spoken and shy, she practically begs for it. Shaking her head, Christina bends down and kisses Mirry hard, making a light fist in her hair. _That,_ if nothing else, will get Sean revved up, get Carrie-Anne sweating and get Miranda twisted in a knot. Jonny can squirm a bit more, too, and then Christian can smirk. _Everyone_ wins.

Carrie-Anne knows that at various times Mistress and Ms. Otto have been lovers, she's even served them both in bed together. But this ... this hurts far more than Mr. Bale's fingers -- how devastating it is for him to just torture one nipple while ignoring the other -- and it hurts even more than the fact that Mr. Bean his using both hands now, stretching her widely open in two places. _I'll be good,_ she thinks, staring miserably at her Mistress. _I promise, Ma'am, I'll be so good for you._

Miranda flails minutely, then remembers herself and kisses back. Christina wonders, as gentle as she's been, if Mirry has ever wanted more. More roughness, more dominance...but Christina's never had any indication of it, and right now...well, now, she's got a girl.

A very _wayward_ girl. Christina breaks the kiss slowly, closing it off in a few small, tender ones, and Miranda gives her a shaky smile. Straightening, Christina shoots Carrie-Anne a look. Yes. The girl's feeling her punishment, now, and it has nothing to do with what the men are putting her through.

"Sean?" she says, turning toward him, "you've always wanted to fuck my girl, haven't you?"

"Too right," he almost laughs, looking incredulous.

"You'll have to get your hands off her for five minutes," Christina teases, "so she can clear the table. But then we can just throw a pillow down for your knees and you can do her right there." She indicates the spot where the shortbread is. "We all know how much Jonny loves watching girls get nasty."

As soon as both men take their hands off her, Carrie-Anne straightens up and turns carefully, mincing over to the table and clearing it off quickly and with as much grace as she can manage. She knows she looks good, knows that even in her fear that someone who is not her Mistress is going to make her come, she still is giving everything she has to her Mistress.

With the table cleared, Christina grips Carrie-Anne's artfully arranged bun between its Asian-style sticks and jerks Carrie-Anne to her, staring at her intently but otherwise not touching. "If you come," she whispers, "it will be so. So. Bad for you later." She yanks Carrie-Anne to her knees, grateful for the thick carpeting -- the hobble skirt is expensive -- and nods to Sean. "The skirt has no front entrance. There's a reason for that: no clitoral contact. Anything else, you can have." She settles in the chair next to Mirry, wrapping an arm around Miranda's shoulders.

"Dose she come when you fuck her up the arse?" Bean asks. Carrie-Anne has actually seen him with his lover looking perectly at home at the opera and she knows that he's deliberately being crude for effect. And it's working; even though he's in a suit and tie today, she can easily imagine him pushing a hard hat back as he fucks her until she screams. _Just like something from all those high school rape fantasies._

"She'd better not," Christina says casually, toying with Miranda's hair. Mirry's always had a morbid fascination with Carrie-Anne, train-wreck style. Punishment has terrified her and made her wetter than anything else in the world, the couple of times she's witnessed any of it. Sure enough, Miranda's squirming. Christina slides a hand down her thigh, then up under her skirt, teasing at the tops of her stockings.

"Bit like _Last Tango in Paris_, yeah?" Bean says. "Too bad I can't use butter," he adds, pulling a condom out of his pocket. He knows that if he didn't have one, Carrie-Anne would rise with perfect grace, fetch one from wherever the supply is in this room and put it on him, but he's always being about preparedness even though he'd had no expectations of getting a chance at Carrie-Anne today. _Wonder what she did to get in this much trouble,_ he thinks, as he pushes into her with one hard thrust.

Throwing her head back in a way that she knows makes her look good, Carrie-Anne cries out, the sound muffled by the gag. It hurts like hell, even though she's been stretched a little; with her legs trapped by the skirt, she knows she's probably just as tight as any boy. She can feel the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes and she knows that one of the reasons Mistress put her in the geisha make up was to make the tears more visible.

Jonny's well repulsed, by now, and Christina glances at him, amused. Christian's just petting him, not trying to distract him but not forcing it on him, either. Miranda's breathing's gone shallow, and Christina gives half a thought to patting her thigh, encouraging her to spread her legs, before tucking her fingers against Miranda's clit and rubbing steadily. She can do this all day, Christina knows; Miranda will go off like a rocket five, six times, slicker and wetter and more swollen with each orgasm.

Christina, though, betrays nothing of her own arousal. Carrie-Anne's got, as Christina likes to say in her more pretentious moments, "miles to go before she sleeps," and Christina isn't going to let her guard down now. Carrie-Anne fucked up hardcore. This tea party's just the beginning.

While Sean likes a nice tight arse as much as any other bisexual man, he doesn't want to draw this out too long. Being part of a punishment is all well and good, but he doesn't think it's up to him to push the girl into making another mistake, and so he's quick about it, fucking Carrie-Anne efficiently. It doesn't hurt that he'd already been more than a little randy before he even touched her; Christina's tea parties tend to do that to a man.

In spite of the fact that it hurts in that perfect way that good anal sex does, Carrie-Anne is grateful that Mr. Bean is not going out of his way to make her enjoy it. Although even that is conspiring against her; Carrie-Anne has always loved being used with no real regard for her own enjoyment. But now she's determined to take this and not come; she needs to show her Mistress just how good she can be.

Christina knows, too; Carrie-Anne _can_ be good. She can be incredible. When she _isn't_, that always strikes Christina as willful and childish.

She also knows that Carrie-Anne loves getting used like a fuck toy, and she knows that Sean's not going to take long. It isn't that he's not inherently cruel -- he's got a decent-sized mean streak, that's for sure -- but Sean's got a sense of fairness, too. Christina would have to _tell_ him to take his time and make it hurt, make the contract slut work for it. And frankly, Christina just doesn't want to bother.

"Look, Contract," Christina orders, and as Carrie-Anne turns her head, Christina speeds her fingers on Mirry's clit, dragging a series of delicate shudders and hitching breaths out of Miranda, heralding her first orgasm. She doesn't stop, though. She just keeps working her hand while Miranda digs her nails into her thigh, trying to find control that isn't there and Carrie-Anne looks anguished. Punished. Good.

Now Carrie-Anne is whimpering, and it has as much to do with being called "contract" as the stiff cock up her ass or the sight of her Mistress bringing Ms. Otto off. She knows better than to look away, but she lowers her head a little, wishing she could make it even more clear that she knows she deserves this.

With a harsh groan, Sean finally comes, his hands slick and hot on the PVC of the snug hobble skirt. After a moment spent slightly hunched over Carrie-Anne, he sits back on his heels, still breathing hard. Without being told to, Carrie-Anne immediately pushes herself up from the table and reaches under it for the stack of soft towels she put there earlier. Turning around, she carefully pulls the condom off his cock and cleans him up before tucking his cock back into his trousers and zipping them. It's not easy putting her head to the floor while dressed like this, but she does, her forehead less than an inch away from his knees.

"Oh, get up," Christina sighs, fingers still toying with Miranda's clit. "Christian? I'm sorry, I'm completely neglecting you and your pet. Would you like to administer something? A paddling, maybe? You always put on the best displays."

"Actually," Christian says, hands braced on his thighs to push up, "I was just considering taking the boy home. He missed his beating last night; we were at footie, so it's double tonight." He makes an exaggerated rolling gesture with his right shoulder, his left hand cupping it. "So much work, they are."

"Don't I know it. Well, come over here; if I stop, the mood's dead for her." She beckons Christian over, and when he bends down, kisses his cheek. "Call me next week. I want to get together at that new tofu place."

"Right," Christian grins, and slaps his thigh. "Come on, boy." At that, Jonny hops right up, heeling as effectively as any dog, though he is allowed to actually walk upright in public. Christian unspools a leash from his belt and snaps it onto the boy's collar, then gives Christina a wave before heading out.

"Well." Christina turns more attention to Miranda then, but her hand's getting tired. "Get over here, Contract. Ms. Otto's due another three or four, at least."

"I should leave too," Sean says, rising to his feet and making his way to Christina and Miranda. "Lovely to see both of you again," he says, bending to kiss each woman on the cheek. "I'll see you later in the week, luv," he adds to Christina. Bending, he slaps Carrie-Anne on the ass and then exits, talking to Christian as they all walk down the hall to the front door.

Unable to crawl in the skirt, Carrie-Anne rises to her feet and makes her way slowly over to the sofa her Mistress and Ms. Otto are sharing. She kneels down in front of the women, wondering if her Mistress will allow her the use of her mouth or if she will only be allowed to use her hands.

"Miranda, sweetie, tell me what you want," Christina purrs, stroking Miranda's hair back after discreetly wiping her hand clean.

Miranda has to clear her throat before she can speak. "I -- erm. I really do like the gloves..." she almost whispers.

"All right." Christina shoots Carrie-Anne a look and jerks her head toward Miranda. Miranda's always a treat; Christina feels like it's Christmas every time she comes over. It's always different.

Bowing her head in acknowledgement of the order, Carrie-Anne slides her hands up Ms. Otto's legs, making sure to go slowly when she reaches the bare skin above Ms. Otto's stocking tops. Once she reaches the neatly trimmed pubic hair, she carefully gets her fingers good and slick before beginning to stroke Ms. Otto's clit. She's never touched the other woman like this before; she's far more accustomed to what Ms. Otto likes from her mouth than her hands, and so she's cautious, not wanting to make a mistake.

"You like that, sweetheart?" Christina murmurs, stroking Miranda's hair. She gets up after pressing a kiss to Miranda's temple, bent on finding a plug in a box under the coffee table -- there -- and lubing it up. She turns it on before shoving it unceremoniously into Carrie-Anne's ass, checking the remote's levels by running it from low to high and back again in quick succession. She looks up at Miranda again. "Tell me what you like about the gloves."

Miranda's breath hitches. "Well it's...they're so smooth and shiny. All of it is, all the rubber. So...slick." That word, _slick_, falls out of her mouth like it's dirty, like Christina imagines _cunt_ would. "I just want to rub ahh--! Mmm. All...all over it."

"Oh, nice," Christina smiles. "I know what Miranda's getting for her birthday." She sits back down again, toying with the remote to the plug idly, high, low, medium, low, high.... "So do you like the smell of it?" At Miranda's affirmative little whine, Christina goes on. _Bingo._ "It drapes nicely, too. You should feel the drape of a rubber skirt with a hand rubbing through it, Mirry. It's lovely. Or a nice, hard rubber dildo. I have one you can borrow, it's got a suction cup. Fantastic in the bathtub." As she goes on, Miranda's eyes glass over again and she grows less inhibited, hips twisting toward Carrie-Anne's glossy black hands.

Having the plug up inside her after being fucked is sheer torture. It's nowhere as big as Mr. Bean's cock, but the vibrations are going to drive Carrie-Anne crazy, she's sure of it. But she's paying attention in spite of the distraction, and she slides her other hand up and under the waist band of Ms. Otto's pretty skirt and then under her blouse so that she can spread her fingers and get as much rubber in contact with Ms. Otto's skin as possible.

At the same time, Carrie-Anne slides two fingers up inside Ms. Otto's cunt, letting the heel of her hand rest against the hard little knot of the other woman's clit.

Gasping, Miranda comes again, caught between Christina's words and Carrie-Anne's hand. She's still rocking forward, though, wanting more. She's insatiable -- that is, _more_ so now that Christina's pushing all her buttons, and using Carrie-Anne to help.

"It's really fantastic," Christina goes on, leaned close against Miranda now and almost whispering into her ear, "when you get whole sheets made of them -- the fine stuff, not that cheap trash you buy in the shops. And then you get yourself a girl to shine them up, and ohhh, just imagine, a nice smooth lube spread all over? Put your hair in a bathing cap and it's a gorgeous mess." Christina smirks at Carrie-Anne; Miranda's well on her way to a third orgasm, shivering and fucking herself on Carrie-Anne's fingers.

Grateful for the hours she spends every week doing yoga and working out, Carrie-Anne allows Ms. Otto to use her hands, doing everything she can to keep as much rubber in contact with Ms. Otto's skin as she can. It's not easy; Carrie-Anne wants to come so badly she's shaking from it and she knows that her thighs are slick with both sweat and her own juices. _And there's no chance Mistress will allow me to come today. No chance at all, and it's all my fault._

Miranda hitches and moans and squirms her way through another orgasm, and then another, with Christina coaxing her through increasingly filthy rubber-clad fantasies. The last one comes on a tightly-drawn squeal as Miranda throws her head back, one leg flung carelessly over the arm of the chair she's now sprawled in.

"Stop," she gasps, gripping Carrie-Anne's wrist and then letting go as though it's on fire. "Stop, too much..." She grabs Christina and kisses her, knowing in a moment she won't be careless anymore and she'll be flushing over her own wantonness.

Christina gives Carrie-Anne a nod once the kiss ends. "Go clean yourself up and strip for bed, Contract; I know you're a mess under there." And then she's stroking Miranda's hair and crooning to her, settling her back into her proper self again.

Keeping her posture perfect, Carrie-Anne makes her slow way out of the parlor and down the hall to the stairs. Unzipping the skirt just enough to enable her to go upstairs to Christina's suite is her one concession to practicality until she reaches the suite. Once there, she gets out of her clothes as quickly as possible, setting them aside in her big dressing room for later cleaning. She's efficient about washing up -- if she's been told to hurry, she can do this in less than ten minutes -- but she indulges herself in a few moments under the hot pounding water of the shower massager before she gets out.

Once she's dried off and done all the tidying up that needs to be done, she lays out one of her Mistress' sheer linen nightshirts and then pulls the small trundle bed out from under the big bed. _I hope she'll allow me to sleep here and not in the dressing room,_ she thinks as she takes up her customary position by the bed, kneeling exactly as her Mistress liked to see her.

Once Christina's seen Miranda out, smiling pleasantly, she stalks up to the bedroom. Everything is as she expected it to be -- luckily enough for Carrie-Anne.

"You keep in mind," she bites out as she strips, dropping each piece in front of Carrie-Anne to be picked up and put away, "that the only reason you're not relegated to the dressing room tonight is because you don't really sleep when you're in there -- and believe me, you're going to need your rest for tomorrow." Stripped, she tugs the nightshirt on and makes an impatient gesture at the pile of PVC and rubber. "Go put that away and go to sleep." She climbs up into her own big bed, waiting for Carrie-Anne to return.

"Yes Mistress," Carrie-Anne replies, quickly gathering up the clothes and taking them into her dressing room. She'll deal with them in the morning before she wakes her Mistress.

As she crawls back into the bedroom, she pauses and puts her head to the floor where her Mistress can see her. "This slave apologizes for her error, Mistress," she murmurs.

"Yeah," Christina mutters. "Keep apologizing, Contract. No," she adds quickly, "that was not an order. Go to bed." She turns over onto her back, drawing her knees up and tugging the nightshirt out of the way. She tends to wait to come last at her tea parties, but this is definitely driven by more than her own sense of personal etiquette. She's horny, and absolutely not going to let her currently problematic contract companion have a damned thing to do with it.

Tucking her hand between her legs, she lets out a sigh, trying to let some of her tension out with it. She draws her fingertips down over her cunt, dragging the wetness up to her clit and circling there, moaning softly but quite deliberately.

Lying in her small bed, Carrie-Anne can hear what Christina is doing and she can't help crying again. She knows enough to be as silent as she can about it, although she has the suspicion that her soft sniffles and uneven breathing are probably entertaining her Mistress.

It doesn't take Christina long. Hips circling, she brings her other hand down and pushes two fingers into herself, curling them. She sucks in a sharp breath, then another, and then she's coming, grinding into her hands and shuddering, then sinking to the bed with a sigh.

She brings her hands up and licks her fingers clean somewhat noisily, sucking the two into her mouth and humming before turning over, away from Carrie-Anne, to sleep. She can hear her girl crying all right, and she's not heartless to it. She'd far rather hold a happy girl than ignore a sad one. But what kind of mistress caves because of a few tears? None worth her salt.

As she hears her Mistress licking her fingers, Carrie-Anne finds herself licking at the inside of her own mouth, desperately wishing her Mistress were pushing her fingers into Carrie-Anne's mouth. And then there's silence from the big bed and slowly, Carrie-Anne relaxes. Even as she's sliding toward sleep, she promises herself that she won't ever misbehave again.

_-end-_

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously this takes place in an AU, wherein neither the two main characters nor their friends are actors. We don't have a specific date in mind for this AU; it's set in some nebulous time in the near future. Contract companions are legal and in the larger/more sophisticated urban areas people are accustomed to seeing subs wearing collars, leashes and fetish wear in public.


End file.
